Communication and Navigation

Has anyone else ever heard said, “Communication is often our weakest link”? Communication is important for all of us. Means of communication runs the gamut from simple and effective to loud, outrageous, and possibly obnoxious and unpleasant. Communication is not complete until we receive a response from the one spoken to indicating that they comprehended what they were told.

In aviation, proper and complete communication is very important in the interest of safety and mission enhancement contributing to successful mission accomplishment. A simple miscommunication in an aircraft can end in catastrophe. Poor or inappropriate communication in a marriage can lead to divorce. Army aviation has a saying, “Lead, follow, or get out of the way”. (BTW, I'm content in any one of the three positions as long as I am where I belong.) The Army goes to great measures to teach good communication in the cockpit. Here is a story told in an Army Aviation safety meeting I attended:

A Bad Day

Joe was the co-pilot for a Mohawk mission. Normally Joe was an easy going cheerful guy, but on the morning of the ill-fated mission it was obvious that Joe had awakened on the wrong side of the bed. Joe’s PIC (Pilot in Command) detected his melancholy mood and elected to keep all communication to only that which was necessary to get the job done. They filed their flight plan and preflighted their aircraft only speaking when professionally necessary. Then they went through the run-up procedures and taxied out to the runway for takeoff. All this was done with no pleasant and extraneous communication that normally takes place between people in most situations except for those that require the bare minimum necessary like a critical surgery or some other complex dangerous process. Once cleared for takeoff with the throttles pushed forward and the aircraft quickly approaching takeoff airspeed, the PIC finally decided to make a social extraneous comment to Joe. The PIC said, “Come on Joe! Cheer up!” Joe said, “Roger gear up.” As he hit the switch that retracted the landing gear and the aircraft still not at takeoff speed bellied in on the runway.

Ouch! Point made...

One of the very first things I learned in a helicopter was that I did not have to look at my instructor pilot when he spoke to me or I spoke to him. There were plenty of other things that needed watching and took priority over a social convention expected in polite society.

I also experienced an instructor pilot that was a screamer as my first instrument instructor. This poor means of communication came close to almost costing me my opportunity to become a helicopter pilot. It did cause me to get setback and graduate a class behind the one I started with. But, I think this experience helped me to become a better instructor pilot when it was my turn to decide if I wanted to be a screamer or a smooth easy communicator in the cockpit. Here is a link to a sampling of some of the critiques I received from some of my students in my instructor pilot days: IQD~No Slack!

I chose to make the cockpit environment as pleasurable and comfortable as possible for my students while still allowing them the best possible chance to learn. I did have one memorable student that passed through my cockpit and ended up not making it for a peculiar reason. I would patiently explain things to this student over, and over. He was definitely slow on picking up the information that he should have been getting. After several days of this I finally sat him down and asked him a few questions.

Me to student, “Able, did you ever have an instructor pilot scream at you?”

Student to me, “Yes sir.”

I wasn’t that surprised by his answer. I knew there were a few screamers out there. I had personally experienced one. His answer to my next question did surprise me though.

Me to student, “Well, how did you like that?”

Student to me, “I liked it.”

Whoa! He liked it? That puzzled me. A screamer in the cockpit definitely creates an unpleasant ambiance and, in my opinion, a setting not very conducive to learning. I had to explore this more. Me to student, “Why did you like it?”

Student to me, “Because that way I knew when I was doing something wrong.”

After that little conversation I started “SCREAMING” at Able whenever he did something wrong. I saw a little improvement, but he was already pretty far behind and having to scream in the cockpit is not the ideal atmosphere you want to promote or have exist as normal in an aircraft cockpit. There may be a rare appropriate time with a “weak” copilot if an operational necessity dictates the need for safety, but you don’t want it to be the norm.

Able got passed on to another instructor pilot. I shared with his new instructor my conversation and experiment that for Able, screaming at him when he did wrong did seem to help. But, the other instructor looked at me a little incredulously and understandable so because of the content in the paragraph just above this one.

Able didn’t make it. And, he probably didn’t really need to make it. Many good instructors, me included, like to take a weak student and bring them up to speed. I was once a weak student in a particular area and feel very fortunate to have made it. I also feel like I turned into a well rounded strong pilot with a lot of the credit going to the men that I had mentoring and instructing me along with the things I experienced. But, an instructor has a very important responsibility to insure a student doesn’t make it through when it becomes obvious the student has no business being given Pilot in Command responsibility of operating an aircraft. It is a tough call and usually we push making the call if it goes against the student as far as we reasonably can. Because of that, sometimes weak pilots slip through that probably shouldn’t have. I had the pleasure (or displeasure) of flying with one in Korea once.

I was in the Second Platoon. I had been well groomed and turned into a BZ (Buffer Zone) pilot, then a BZ check pilot, and a flight leader by the men who mentored me. Normally Second Platoon pilots flew with other second platoon pilots and first platoon pilots flew with other first platoon pilots. Cobra platoon pilots who were also Huey pilots flew with all of us depending on the mission.

We had an airmobile training exercise where I was chosen as flight lead for the second platoon. For some reason I was assigned a weak first platoon copilot to fly with me.

The joke in Army Aviation is that when flying with a weak copilot the PIC assigns the copilot to sit on his hands and monitor the standby load meter. By sitting on his hands, the copilot can’t mess with anything he shouldn’t. Monitoring the standby load meter is extremely innocuous. The load meter won’t do anything but rest dead on its peg, unless the main generator fails; then the standby load meter will perk up and show a load. A main generator failure is extremely rare. I never made any of my copilots do that. It is basically a means of telling your copilot he is worthless without saying those words. Not too good for one’s self esteem, but probably apropos for some guys depending on their personality and degree of incompetence they possessed.

I only flew with Ruby this one time. If I had the opportunity to fly with him more I may have gotten to the point where I might have subjected him to the above abuse of sitting on his hands and monitoring the standby load meter, or I may have chosen to possibly try to mentor him into being a stronger pilot if I thought he might have it in him. It's no fun wasting your time on a fruitless cause. It could be very difficult leading a flight on an Air Mobile lift with a weak copilot. Because navigation is the more important aspect of flying, it doesn’t matter how skilled and competent a pilot is at manipulating the controls, if the pilot cannot navigate he is worthless. I had good navigational skills which may be one of the reasons I was chosen to be a flight lead.

In a typical dual pilot situation one pilot flies the aircraft while the other pilot navigates. The pilots switch off sharing stick time. Unless my copilot was a proven competent navigator, I only gave them the map when I had good boundaries such as an easily recognizable river, highway, ridgeline, or valley that could indicate the copilot was getting lost, or I was very familiar with the area and didn’t need a map to know the same. As flight lead, I always navigated an unfamiliar route on the first sortie while allowing my copilot to fly the route. Once I was familiar with the route I took a turn flying, and from there we usually swapped off trying to share stick time equally depending on how many sorties we made.

I was unfamiliar with this route of flight for this day's airlift, so I allowed Ruby to fly the aircraft while I navigated the first time around the route. This is tactical navigation flown at low level using topographic maps for navigation that show way more detail than the typical aeronautical chart. Unless you personally experience it, it is hard to describe the satisfaction you get when you talk your pilot into an LZ (Landing Zone) that you have never seen before and the first time you see it is as the aircraft is decelerating to land on short final.

Our LZ this day was a ridgeline with pinnacle pads. We were a flight of five. As we rounded the valley where I could see the ridge with the landing areas marked I pointed out a knob of a hill on the ridge where our pad was supposed to be located. I told Ruby, “Shoot your approach to the right of that knob.”

He could see the knob, but he couldn’t see a landing pad. Ruby said, “I don’t see a landing pad.”

I said, “I don’t care, shoot your approach to the knob.”

Ruby said, “But, I don’t see any landing pad.”

I said, “So what, just shoot your approach to the knob!” He should have started to decelerate and begin his approach when I first told him to shoot his approach to the knob.

Ruby said, “But, I don’t see any landing pad!”

He hadn’t even began to slow the aircraft down. I had let him go to where this landing could not be salvaged. We were too fast and had gotten too close to the landing area to safely make an approach. In hind site, I had identified the correct landing area, my navigational duties were done, when Ruby first balked at my instructions of where to make his approach to land, I should have set my map down, taken over the flight controls, and made the approach myself. Live and learn. If I wanted to be cutting and caustic at his failure to follow my instructions I would have said, “I have the controls. Sit on your hands and monitor the standby load meter WOJG!” (WOJG = Warrant Officer Junior Grade) Fortunately this was just a training situation, and I was the one that ended up getting some good training out of it.

I took over the controls once it was too late to salvage the approach and led the flight on a go-around for a second attempt. If this would have been a for real combat situation I would have put the whole flight at risk causing this go-around. Even though Ruby played a part, the responsibility was mine. I could have salvaged a bad communication situation simply by taking over the controls sooner and made the approach myself.

This is interesting, because I find often in life when I am confronted with a situation for the very first time I often do not handle it as I think I should have in retrospect. But, usually it is just training for a very similar situation that will happen in the future and because of my initial failure, I am now ready to perform appropriately and properly whenever the situation presents itself again in the future. Gotta love the lessons we learn in life. Sweet Jesus!

We made our go around with me now on the controls. I flew my aircraft back to the point where I had told Ruby to start his approach. I began our approach to the right of the knob where I had initially told Ruby to do so. There was absolutely no sight of any landing pad through out the whole approach until we came to a high hover beside the knob, then just hidden behind the knob a landing pad came into view. I hovered over and set her down. Then I looked at Ruby with possibly a little contempt in my eye and a grin.

I had to take a little flak in the debrief which I deserved, but at least I had learned a good lesson. I was also glad I never had to fly with that first platoon self-loading-baggage anymore. (self-loading-baggage is a derogatory term often used by pilots in EMS to refer to medical crewmembers who present themselves as high and mighty and knowledgeable in all things applying to aviation. These are the self-appointed experts who don't realize the vast quantity of things they really don't know.)

A good copilot listens to his/her PIC and obeys without question. There is an appropriate time for questions when a good copilot has the proper discernment to know when to ask. Ruby’s first question may have been appropriate and needed to be tolerated. Many times it is better for someone to say something that is not necessary, than to not say something that is necessary. If he was made of the right stuff, he would have never balked the second time by repeating his spoken complaint. Worse case, he would have shot the approach I told him too, and when we got to the point where I spotted the landing pad and there was truly no pad then one of two situations would have occurred: 1). I navigated him to the wrong place, "my bad", and we executed a go-around from that point in an attempt to correct my erroneous navigation. Still painless and safe except for the flak I would have justly deserved at the debrief. Also, highly dangerous in a for real combat scenario. 2). I navigated us to the proper spot and the people who did the AMR (AirMobil Recon) blew it and didn’t brief us properly. In a for real combat situation you don’t get the luxury of an AMR, and may have to improvise. We did a lift once on a route that had not been used in years. The 2nd situation could have also been this scenario where the AMR guys didn’t blow it if an AMR was done. The pads were overgrown with trees a good twelve to twenty feet high. We belly’d in to the tree tops and hovered as the ROK (Republic of Korea) Marines jumped out into the tree tops. Second time around, we had freshly cleared landing pads! Hurrah! I don’t remember the details on this lift, whether or not an AMR was done, whether or not we were briefed on the condition of the landing pads. It was good training though regardless just to see how the pilots and the ROK marines handled it.

Another lift I led took place in the far reaches of TAC Zone C. It was a long flight. I was in tactical mode and led the flight low level to the PZ (Pickup Zone), flawlessly navigated the route to the LZ. My copilot on this day did a good job, and was an asset instead of self-loading-baggage needing babysitting. I took my turn flying on some of the sorties after navigating the first circuit, and we completed the lift without a hitch. I stayed on the controls leading the flight back to our home base. I also was still in tactical low level mode. After about five minutes the copilot said, “Don’t you think it is about time we gain some altitude?” Altitude is your friend in a non-hostile environment. It gives you more time to react and handle an inflight emergency should one occur. I considered his question. The lift was really over and he had made a good point. I said, “You’re right. As I pulled pitch and took us up to a comfortable 1,000 feet AGL (Above Ground Level).

Shift gears a little bit: I tell my wife that we are a good team, and I believe we are! We are not a well oiled team like combat ready Army trained helicopter pilots, but we are a good team. Husbands and wives have roles to play. I’m comfortable sitting in the PIC’s seat or the copilot’s seat. I’ve flown both. It also is a role to play. I value my wife’s input. The trick is discerning apples ¹ (like the one Adam chose to eat) from good advice. Every time I’ve accepted an apple as Adam did, there has been trouble, but my wife’s good advice has also saved us from unimaginable hardship. e.g. I believed in ProximityCast so much that I would have mortgaged our home to get the funds to pay someone to build it. I desperately needed a means to provide for my family after losing my ability to fly. I thought ProximityCast had the potential to become that means. She did not like the idea of mortgaging the house and putting it at risk. The worst case could have proved quite unpalatable: ProximityCast could prove to be a flop without gaining any traction so important in the dot.com startup world and our home would have been the price causing us to be homeless. Husbands can serve up apples too resulting in nothing but trouble with the consequences that follow. I’d be comfortable living in an old school bus again, but with a severely handicapped child to care for that could prove very difficult for my wife to deal with. We are setup comfortably and well for all my son’s needs right where we are at. So, I buckled down and learned the technology I needed to build ProximityCast myself and bootstrapped it. ProximityCast has proven to be a flop and has not gained the slightest bit of traction like I really believed it would have. God! I’m glad I listened to my wife. That piece of advice was no apple and saved our bacon for now anyhow.

Who knows what the future might bring. I know that with Jesus, come what may, it will be all good even if it seems like a tough pill to swallow.

Speaking of the proverbial apple, I believe that since Adam failed and accepted that original apple from his wife that put us into the fallen condition we humans find ourselves in, God wants men everywhere that have wives to learn to discern between apples and good advice. Forbidden fruit and appropriate fruit offered to us by our wives. If we can collectively learn to discern the difference and have the strength to do as we ought, refusing the forbidden fruit while accepting the good, I believe we can improve our human condition. It is not an easy lesson to learn though, and it is not always easy to discern the difference. But I know from what I have seen and experienced, that it is possible.

I could ramble on about communication and navigation between spouses, but least you grow weary I better call it quits for now. My wife has tagged me as “one more Dave”, so true to form I will share one more brief addition before I go today.

Getting to be a husband and a father has been one of my greatest privileges in this life. I believe Heavenly Father has a sense of humor though when He blesses us with children. Children have the ability to give a parent the most joy and the most heartache one can possibly experience in this life. When a child does something that fails to make you happy, I think Heavenly Father looks upon us, smiles and says, “Yeah, now you know what it feels like!” Life is a precious gift and a wonderful learning experience even with the tough lessons. Cherish it!

Old Fashioned Man
wrote and sang by JoLynn Robert
One sweet lady! ThankYou Jesus!

May your ability to communicate and navigate through the trials of life improve if they need improvement. There is One whom I know who can help you along the journey if you ask Him and allow Him to provide the assistance we all can use.

Revelation 3:20
Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me.

Mark 4:23
“If anyone has ears to hear, let him hear.”

Ciao!

apples ¹

- the proverbial fruit in the garden of Eden that Adam and his wife Eve ate is often referred to as an apple. No one knows exactly what it really was except that it was forbidden and they were warned of dire consequences should they choose to partake in it.

Adam and Eve actually had it easier than us. They were clearly shown what not to eat. We have to learn to discern.

The Last Hurrah ~ Retired my Spurs

"All men are like grass, and all their glory is like the flowers of the field; the grass withers and the flowers fall." 1 Peter 1:24



Watching a tree top fall to the ground from up in a tree is interesting, but what the video doesn't show that I enjoyed most was seeing clear air appear before you when the top fell free and then the top of the new stob you are tied to starts rocking back and forth a good foot or two especially on a tall pine tree.

I have never been a good business man. If all I had to do was put a tree on the ground I would have been happy with what I got paid, but after cleaning the mess up and hauling it off I usually wondered what I was doing. I got my spurs in 1983. They were considerably cheaper back then than they are now.

I enjoyed taking trees down for the challenge, the exercise, and the fun. I didn't find cleaning the mess up and hauling it off fun, so I pursued other means to make a living mostly involving my ability to fly. I hung on to my tree climbing equipment though so that I could help a neighbor, or a friend, or myself out when necessary.

When my son proposed to his wife lightning struck the tree in the picture in my front yard quite near the two of them.


The tree continued to look healthy for a long time, but finally and then slowly pine needles started to turn brown on different limbs. The tree would have to be taken down. Good thing I hung on to my tree climbing spurs!

I started to take it down a few weeks ago, but my foggy head interfered and I put it off for a better day. Well, that day arrived on the 4th of July 2010. The morning temperature felt comfortable. My head, while not crispy clear, felt good. I felt inspired and up to it. I formulated a game plan that began with lots of hydration to be continued through the whole process.

First on my agenda was to service and crank my up-in-the-tree saw. If for some reason I couldn't crank this saw there would be no use in continuing. Being a Stihl it cranked without much effort even though it sat unused for several years.

Next I cranked my larger Stihl that I would use for clean up after getting everything on the ground. It is a newer saw than the little Stihl I bought in 1983, but although it has a larger bar they are both pretty close in weight. My daughter's boyfriend, TJ, does some tree trimming. He was surprised at the weight of my once top of the line ancient dinosaur. When he showed me his up-in-the-tree saw, I understood.

After I knew both of the saws could be easily cranked, I began pulling out my climbing gear. I considered simply putting on my climbing safety belt and spurs, going on up, topping the tree a couple of times, then climbing down. Quick and sweet. But, experience has taught me that it is much better to have something and not need it than to not have something and need it. So, I hauled out the whole nine yards and began to get set up. I was short one carabiner that I didn't miss until the point it would have been quite handy.

My climbing gear amounts to my Klein Tree Spurs, an Arbor-Plex climbing rope, a generic industrial safety belt (around the waste only) with a homemade lanyard, a rappelling harness (poor boy's tree saddle, I generally only use this to rappel out of the tree after it has been topped. It's easier than climbing down. ), a figure 8, with carabiner, and a small retrieval line for pulling things up into the tree that you decided you needed after the fact.

I worked for a civil engineer once who's favorite saying was, "Anyone can do good work with good tools, but it takes a skilled man to do good work with junk." Most of his equipment was junk. I prefer to have good tools and look skilled when I'm not, but due to budget constraints one may not always have that luxury. Forestry Suppliers, which is still a good source, was my only access to equipment back in the day. Now there is WesSpur Tree Equipment, and Sherrill Tree which simply specialize in tree climbing. They also have numerous books on the subject to assist the modern day tree climber. Back in my day, if you were lucky enough to know someone who worked for Asplundh, you might could get them to give you one of their company tree climbing manuals. I never did. All my techniques I came up with on my own. The most important thing up in a tree is a calm, clear, head with good situational awareness and discernment along with the physical capability to climb.

Sherrill Tree focuses a lot on equipment and books about climbing without spurs. If a tree climber is only going to prune a tree and not completely take it down, it is unethical to use spurs in a tree. Many will do it, but you shouldn't allow it unless you don't mind giving them repeat business in a couple of years after your tree dies from the spur wounds. They won't always die, but the possibility is real.

There are also recreational tree climbers now who do it for pure fun and pleasure. Using spurs is a definite no, no for recreational climbing. Sherrill Tree has books and info on recreational climbing plus the equipment you need if you are interested. When I was making hammocks I considered a commercial with a group of recreational climbers heading high into the treetops and a securing their hammocks for some relaxation time high above the crowd. People even campout in trees now.

When I first got my spurs in I took them to the woods where I could practice and get used to them without anyone watching. I started tree removal on the side while I was a contract instrument instructor pilot for the Army. The company I worked for employed over 400 pilots. Out on a tree job once I met a man that worked for my company that asked to borrow my tree spurs. I told him as long as he provided a chair where I could get comfortable to watch the show and a cooler with cold drinks so I could stay refreshed as the show went on, he could use them. His tree was a small Pine no more than thirty feet tall. He made it up and got his tree on the ground, but when he got back on the ground he approached me and said, "I've got a whole different opinion of tree trimmers now. It is one thing to be tired and another thing to be scared, but when you are both tired and scared at the same time it is a bugger bear!" It might not be a wise thing to loan your spurs to just anybody, but this guy was a helicopter pilot, so what the hey? Remember the fighter pilot's prayer? "God give me the eyes of an eagle, the heart of a lion, and the balls of a combat helicopter pilot."


Anyhow all my equipment was laid out and ready. I put my safety belt on along with the rappelling harness and then spur'd up.

I hooked my up-in-the-tree saw, climbing rope, and equipment retrieval rope to one of the "D" rings on my safety belt and threw my lanyard around the tree. Then I began to climb.

Shows Climbing and the Stob Rocking after the top drops

Many people wait way too long to get a tree climber in to handle a dead tree. After a certain point the tree loses structural integrity and it can become quite dangerous to attempt to climb and top a tree. When the top breaks free there is a good chance the rocking can cause the rotten part below the climber to break, then the party is over. It is usually up to the climber to judge the structural integrity of the tree. It is best to have your tree taken down sooner rather than later. I wanted to see how my tree would fair after the lightning strike so I let it go awhile. Its structural integrity is still sound although the dead wood is beginning to harden and is not as easily penetrable by the tree spurs.

Tree spurs can cut out of the tree also causing difficulties to the climber if he doesn't set them securely. The harder wood caused one of my spurs to cut out occasionally. Fortunately I always made sure the odd one out was secure before trying to set the other one. This made the climb tedious and more difficult than I recall. I continued to make my way up. I had a spot picked out from the ground where I wanted to make my cut. I would have a few limbs to cut out of the way before reaching that height. I used to use a double lanyard so I could leap frog limbs without cutting them, but I didn't know where my second lanyard was, so I was climbing with only one.

I only use a safety belt, so I didn't have the comfort of a tree saddle. I had my rappelling harness, but I only use it for the journey down. It is a pretty poor substitute for a tree saddle, but great for a quick trip out of the tree rappelling.


I got to the first limb that needed cutting. I had my wife retrieve a small pruning hand saw from our basement and attach it to my equipment retrieval line. I was getting tired. I didn't want to expend the energy to crank and handle the chainsaw.

My wife had never ever watched me do any tree jobs previously. She simply stayed away and prayed. She chose to watch this job. Too bad she didn't have a video camera for YouTube. Flying and trimming trees are two jobs I've always prayed a lot on. Never out loud, simply to myself. (Well, I did pray out loud once in an aircraft: Found here) No one ever knew I prayed unless I told them. My wife said a few prayers silently as she watched me.

After cutting the limb out of the way, I had her attach a water bottle so I could continue to hydrate. I then tried to rest. This wasn't like the old days. God I was tired. My legs were feeling like rubber. I pulled up the far end of my climbing rope and made a makeshift saddle so I could rest easier. After a little bit of rest and hydration I climbed above the cut limb. Now I had a small knob that afforded solid footing for one leg without needing good spur penetration. The top of my spurs were digging into my legs just below my knees. It wasn't very comfortable. I was going to show you a picture of the spur rash on my left left, but decided it wouldn't be very pleasant viewing.

My fatigue was becoming incapacitating. I got to where I could rest as best as possible and asked Jo if we had any Gatorade. She went and looked and found a bottle of Powerade. The electrolytes were very, very helpful, but not enough. I abandoned my plan to climb to the point where I wanted to make my first cut. I decided that if I could get comfortably situated to handle the saw that I would just take the top out where I planned the second cut.

Jo was praying silently that if the Lord had wanted me to cut that tree to give me the strength to do it. If He didn't, then to give me the wisdom to get down. So, she told me later.

I struggled to get setup. If I would have planned better it could have been easier, but I had a tangled mess to deal with. I could have used that second carabiner to get my rappelling harness set up as a saddle, if only I had taken the time to find it. If I had a good tree saddle on and in use I could have expended much less energy. I could have, I could have, I could have, but I didn't! Almost like, "Oh boy, ROWBEAR, what kind of trouble did you get yourself into now."

Cut that top, get back on the ground and leave the rest for later was my new plan. Chainsaws can be dangerous enough even when you are rested and on the ground, but off the ground in a tree and tied off you have to be extra careful. (YouTube caution, can be disturbing) I have been fatigued up in a tree before, but never to this extent. It is one thing to be tired and another thing to be scared, but when you are tired and scared at the same time it is a bugger bear. I wasn't scared, but I was concerned. I was beginning to realize that I had bitten off way more than I could chew. I'm only 55 and until relatively recently a pretty healthy and avid mountain biker. But it was becoming obvious to me that I was much too old to be acting this dang young.

If only I could get this top cut out and get down this would be my last hurrah regarding tree trimming, but I already knew regardless of the outcome that this would be my last time to climb a tree. My spurs would be retired once I got back on the ground.

I believe I could push it and make the cut, but in my fatigued condition I don't think I could guarantee a safe cut. I told my self several times that if I did attempt the cut to check and make sure that I didn't have anything tied above the cut. (see disturbing YouTube above) There are a ton of other things that could go wrong too. If you are fatigued, you are not in a good position to deal with the potential extras. I eventually reached a point where I believed attempting the cut would not have been the responsible and safe thing to do. Pride could have made me push it and press on, but it is written pride goes before a fall. As a poor boy, I would have preferred getting the job done myself. I realized this had become another tall tale if I would get the opportunity to write it. None of us are promised tomorrow and there are a lot more common ways to be taken out than tree trimming although tree trimming can increase the potential for someone who has no business doing it. Shucks, it gets a fair share of the regulars. I would have to successfully cross the finish line alive and well to write this tall tale. My previous experience in life has taught me that you are not across the finish line until you really are across it. Just because you can see it and you are close to it does not mean that you will make it across successfully. I find the times I most often fail to successfully cross a finish line is when I tell myself I got it made before I'm there. Anyone else been there done that? Anyhow I made the decision to swallow my pride and humble myself and I lowered my saw to the ground signifying that I had indeed tossed in the towel.

My precarious situation wasn't over though. I had to now get set up to rappel out of the tree. If I had a second carabiner, that would have been easier. My only carabiner was tied up with other uses that it had to be freed from. I had a tangled mess on my hands, but it was of my own creation. I could have and should have done a better job preparing. Failing to prepare is preparing to fail. I needed to secure my climbing rope to the tree above me, hook my figure 8 into the rope and use the carabiner to hook the figure 8 into my rappelling harness. But, the end of my climbing rope was set up as a makeshift saddle in an attempt to give me some relief. None of this was happening or going to happen very quickly. If I had prepared and planned better I could have quickly switched to rappel mode and gone on down.

For the first time ever up in a tree I prayed out loud. I had gotten myself in a pretty good jam. I was only approximately 30 feet off the ground, but it was high enough for an old man to need to be careful. I knew I needed to relax, take my time, and work my problem, so that's what I did. Since Jo had never watched or helped me on any tree jobs I had to instruct her on how to attach things I needed to my retrieval line. She learned fast though and did a good job. She was also good about silently praying and waiting for what seemed to be an opportune time to ask me any questions she thought were necessary. I was certainly in no position to waste time on any unnecessary questions.

I began to wonder if I was going to have the strength to safely rappel without a belayer. Could I instruct Jo on how to do that and set her up to do it while I was in the tree? I asked her to give JimBo, our local city man also on the volunteer fire department, a call to see if he could belay me or knew someone who could. No answer. After all it was the 4th of July. I next had her call Nick, a young man and family friend and close friend to my son. Nick knows how to climb without spurs and also does trees. No answer. So, I told Jo to go get a thick jacket and a pair of welders gloves. I still had to get set up to rappel.

My rappelling harness was not as secure as it could be. I was too tired to properly adjust it though I attempted as best I could. I caught a vision of it slipping down around my knees with me possibly flipping upside-down and slipping. My glass definitely wasn't half full. I had Jo get a quick link and I used the quick link to hook the rappel loop to my safety belt buckle. That would have to do, and I felt it was sufficient to prevent the vision occurring.

Now I had to get the rope setup so I could hook the figure 8 up to it and hook the carabiner to my rappelling harness loop. The problem was that I would have to loosen and quit using the makeshift saddle I had rigged to help me rest. I believe and know my prayers helped. The idea came to me that I should just pull up the other end of the rope and rig it. Then after getting rigged and set up ready to rappel I could loosen the makeshift saddle. So, that's what I did. I slowly worked my problems, undid all my tangles, and instructed Jo on how to belay me. While still safetied off with my lanyard and safety belt I finally freed up the makeshift saddle and dropped that end of the rope. I then worked out with Jo the concept of braking and allowing me slack when I needed it.

All was set! I released my safety lanyard and found I had the strength to rappel without needing a belayer. But like previously mentioned, I'd much rather have it and not need it, than need it and not have it. Another example of stacking the deck in your favor. I guess I could buy a nice tall extension ladder and a better tree saddle to stack the deck more in my favor for my second attempt with the money I'll end up paying Nick to take the tree down for me. But, if Nick can get around to it soon enough, I think my tree climbing spurs are retired for good. I am glad to have crossed that finish line (back on the ground safe and sound) with no desire step back into that race.

Lightning wound from strike that caused the tree to die

The upper line shows where I had initially intended to top the tree if I still had all the right stuff. The lower yellow line across this picture shows the height I had climbed to before I completely tuckered out. I would have gone ahead and topped the tree here if I could have gotten situated and rested enough to feel comfortable operating the saw up in the tree. Being inordinately tired is just another ingredient that could have contributed to catastrophe. I was ready to press on until the point when I realized it wasn't the smart thing to do.

Knowing what I know now, it wouldn't be smart for me to even attempt this job in the first place, but I didn't know that on the 4th of July 2010.

My father-in-law showed up shortly after I was safely back on the ground with my tree still in the air. He was going to ask me to take care of a tree for him. Now, he'll get Nick to do it. I told him I've been aging fast and if he wasn't careful I'd pass him up and leave him in the dust.

First my ability to fly was taken away, then my ability to do any serious computer programming was taken away through foggy headed days, now it is quite apparent my ability to do trees is gone. I've been slowing down on other things too. I can still write, play a game of chess, and read a good book though. Plus my wife is still glad to have me around, so life is not too bad. I consider myself blessed even though the old stuff is missed. But, I can definitely feel that I have entered that phase where the grass withers and the flower fades, and so will all of us in this life if we live long enough. Fortunately we don't wither and fade as fast as the grass and flowers in most cases. It is just another chapter in life. I hope I can walk through it well come what may, but it is proving to be interesting learning my new boundaries and trying to respect them.



Back on the ground. Tired! Dog Tired!

Ciao...

God said He's going to do great things with me someday

A friend of mine that is an ex-con tells this story the best. I'm not sure where it originated, but I like it and share it with you all today.

Proverbs 3:5 says, "Trust in the LORD with all your heart And do not lean on your own understanding."

Our own understanding can often get in the way.

My friend who told me this story has his own personal struggles, but he tries. His dad, now deceased, was a military career man. So, my friend had good potential and God is not done with him yet. My friend's life took a turn for the worse when he was enrolled in a commercial diving school, and one of his fellow students talked him into smoking some dope. That was a crucial turning point in my friend's life. Marijuana stole my friend's ambition and changed the course of his life for the worse. He ended up dropping out of the diving program. His fellow diving student didn't do him any favors by turning him on to a drug that many justify and consider harmless.

Anyhow here is the story my friend told:

The Little Donkey

A young little donkey was out grazing in a field one day when he heard God speak to him.

God said, "Little donkey, one day I am going to do great things with you!"

The little donkey perked up with excitement. He shared what God told him with his fellow donkeys who all thought, "Yeah right".

The years moved on and nothing much or special happened in the little donkey's life. The little donkey was getting old in years and God still had not done anything with him yet when God once again spoke to the little donkey. God said, "Little donkey, I'm telling you one day I am going to do great things with you."

The little donkey perked up again with excitement and expectation. His walk took on a little extra bounce as he made his way over to his fellow donkeys to tell them what God had told him. His fellow donkeys thought, "Yeah right".

The little donkey's life continued without much happening. The little donkey grew old and weak and finally went the way of all the earth by falling prey to the local predators without God doing anything significant or special with him that could be considered great.

The predators picked the little donkey's bones clean. Then one day soon after Samson came along and picked up the little donkey's jawbone and killed a thousand Philistines with it.

Not the embellished story of the little donkey's life, but the story of Samson and what he did with the jawbone of a donkey can be found in the 15th chapter of Judges in the Bible. You just never know how God may choose to use you. It may not agree with the liking of your own understanding, but if it serves God's purpose why should we complain?

"Now in a large house there are not only gold and silver vessels, but also vessels of wood and of earthenware, and some to honor and some to dishonor. Therefore, if anyone cleanses himself from these things, he will be a vessel for honor, sanctified, useful to the Master, prepared for every good work." 2 Timothy 2:20,21

Ciao!

Aviators Party at Camp Stanley

My unit, the 128th Tomahawks was stationed at Camp La Guardia in Uijeongbu where A210 is located close to the original MASH unit that inspired the television series. Our sister unit the 117th Toros was stationed at Camp Stanley where H207 is located.

My unit had Camp La Guardia all to itself, but our sister unit, the Toros, had to share their compound and Officers Club with an Arty Division (Division Artillery Headquarters). The Artillery guys tended to cramp the style that aviators liked to party, so the aviation officers of the 117th invited the aviation officers of the 128th over to their "O" club one afternoon to show the artillery guys how aviators partied.

This event happened to fall on the last day of our out going company commander Maj. Brewer's tour of duty, and the eve of our new company commander, "Maj. Lewman, taking command. Both commanding officers attended the festivities. It was setup to be a good party.

Drinking, conversation, and flying stories usually dominated the events along with some fun and games involving who knows what that usually involved either getting free drinks or paying for drinks for everyone else.

We were on the Toros' turf. Their main game involved a bell hanging above the bar in their club. If someone could kick the bell and make it ring, they got a free drink for themselves and everyone associated with them. If they failed to kick the bell, then they owed everyone else a free drink.

Kicking the bell required skill and talent. Our normal games at the 128th officer's lounge involved a dog tag check and the bend and scratch club of which neither involved talent and skill.

The 117th guys were pretty talented at kicking the bell. Needless to say, the 128th guys didn't do so well. Our unit was losing face fairly severely in the bell kicking department. Something had to be done to make up for our lack of skill, but what?

One of the aviators of the 128th thought of the frog eating incident that had taken place with none like Jimmy. He set to track down their champion frog eater so he could explain the bell kicking situation causing them to lose face, and then have the CFE challenge the Toros to a frog eating contest.

The CFE was tracked down and found quietly working on his own inebriation while observing the festivities. The situation with the bell was explained and he was encouraged to go and find a frog to up the ante on the challenge between the two units.

The CFE exited the building and walked around outback where a cook was busy peeling potatoes. The CFE asked the cook, "Do you ever see any frogs hopping around out here?"

The cook said, "Yea, sometimes over there you can find them."

The CFE set out on his search and soon scored with a good sized catch. This was bigger than any frog he had ever tried to tackle. The "V" shaped bone that supports the frogs back was almost as big as the CFE's index and middle finger. It wasn't a bullfrog, but it was plenty large enough to make a good show.

He soon returned into the club with his live catch and approached the bar and issued a challenge. The 117th guys looked at him like he was crazy and would have nothing to do with it. The CFE then approached a table where some non-aviator Army Ranger officers were enjoying an evening meal. The CFE issued them a challenge, "You guys are Rangers, come on and lets show these guys how this is done!" One of you want to have half of this frog?" None of the Rangers rose to the challenge. The CFE disparaged them with some contemptuous comment indicating his disappointment with the supposedly legendary abilities of the Rangers. Well, they weren't Navy SEALS like the Navy recruiter had described.

At the end of Army Flight School the graduating class flew down to Pensacola Florida and airlifted Army Ranger Candidates who had been left to survive in the wild living off the land for a couple of weeks. All the Aviator Candidates are told to bring bags of cookies to give to the future Rangers. If the potential Rangers were fortunate enough to not have a real ranger staff member onboard their aircraft, the cookies vanished with due haste.

The Rangers could probably learn a thing or two from the turtleman, and not be so hungry for cookies.

Anyhow there were no takers from the Ranger table and the 117th was starting to lose face because they had yet to produce someone to rise to the challenge.

It wasn't looking good for the men of the 117th, until someone from the Toros approached their junior WOJG (Warrant Officer Junior Grade) and told him, "WOJE! You will get up there and accept this challenge." A junior WOJG doesn't have much choice when it comes to things like this.

The junior WOJG approached the CFE and said he'd take the challenge.

The CFE looked over the WOJE and asked, "What half do you want?"

The junior WOJG said, "It don't matter."

The CFE decided to show a little compassion on the junior WOJG (they say nice guys finish last) since the junior WOJG had never done anything like this before. The CFE didn't tell anyone about this, but out of compassion he bit off way more frog than he should have. He stuck the frog's head into his mouth and bit behind the "V"bone previously mentioned. Needless to say, he had quite the mouth full to chew on. Then he handed the other half to the junior WOJG who promptly got down to business taking care of his half.

The two men stood at the bar keenly eying each other as they each worked on devouring their half. The CFE planned on simply putting on an act and disappearing out back to spit out his half once the show was over. Not too much genuine champion there.

Anyhow the bar was quiet as everyone observed the show. After a little bit the junior WOJG reached into his mouth and removed a clean bone. He held the bone up for all to see and then set it into an ashtray on the bar.

The CFE thought to himself, "uh Oh! I might have to really eat this thing." The junior WOJG pulled out another clean bone and set it into the ashtray as the CFE started to get serious about working on his half so that he could swallow it. He managed to produce a clean bone and set it in the ashtray with the others, but his mouth was feeling overfull as he had no previous intentions of swallowing his half until now. He knew he would have to also actually eat his half or lose face before everyone, so he started working on swallowing what was there.

As the frog went down, he encountered a serious problem. The frog was jumping in his stomach attempting to come back up. The CFE knew that if he threw up the loss of face would be extreme, so he attempted to keep his half down.



Well, the frog wasn't cooperating as it continued to jump in the CFE's belly seeking escape. The CFE knew that if the frog came back out he would lose face unless he could do something that exceeded "The Great Santini's" BS. He soon knew that vomiting was inevitable, and he knew what he would have to do. He was grateful for enough inebriation to help him accomplish what would soon be necessary.

Once it was evident that the frog was on his way back up, the CFE cupped his two hands together to catch the barf. When the hands were loaded up and the barfing had ceased the CFE looked at the contents of his hands and loudly exclaimed, "I guess this thing wants to be ate again!" He then drew his hands to his mouth and slurped the frog down for its second time to be devoured.

The frog started jumping again immediately once it was down the hatch the second time. The CFE knew he could not hold it down. It was time to up the ante.

The CFE again cupped his hands together to catch the barf. This time when his hands were full and the barfing was done he loudly exclaimed, "I guess this thing wants to be shared with everyone! Have some!!!" as he raised his arms and tossed the barf throughout the club. The observing denizens of the barroom made great haste to clear the place.

With no more frog to consume the CFE got himself another drink and went about his business of enjoying the evening. Topping the Great Santini's fake barf consumption even though he couldn't hold seconds down either was enough to save face. All seemed well between the two aviation companies showing the DIV-ARTY guys just how aviators partied.

The junior WOJG actually had done an excellent job keeping his half down, but one of the Army Rangers approached him and told him that some frogs are poisonous and can kill you. The junior WOJG set out to find the CFE from his sister company to share the news. Once informed, the CFE looked the junior WOJG square in the eyes and said, "I know. That's why I thew mine up." The junior WOJG spent the following few minutes in the club's restroom sticking his finger down his throat attempting to cause himself to barf without success. He survived though.

Finally the evening came to an end and all the men from the 128th headed to other haunts, but the repercussions from the aviators party at Camp Stanley were not yet over. We had all joined together to show the artillery crowd how aviators partied and had done a CAV style job of doing it. The following day the full bird colonel in charge of Camp Stanley placed all of the men from the 117th that had attended the party on restriction. He then placed a telephone call to our brand new company commander, Maj. Lewman.

Once Maj. Lewman got on the phone the colonel said, "Major! I need the names of all of your men that attended that party that took place over here last night."

Maj. Lewman who had also attended the party replied, "Colonel, I may be new but I'm not stupid! Bye!" Then he hung up the phone. Conversation over. Nothing else was ever said or done.

Ciao!

From Bus Bum to Helicopter Pilot

The picture is of my son Micah playing "King of the Bus". He is in the toy draw. He would pull them all out and then climb in and play. He still has a strong streak of adventure running through him.

The bus was a 1969 GMC school bus converted into a motorhome by my friends Dwayne Langham and Steve Hingle. The bus was painted brown and the school bus banner on the front was replaced with "Jesus is Lord" over a white background. The bus was 39.5 feet long and weighed over 16,000 pounds.

My friend Dwayne showed up in the bus at my mama's house when I was going to college at SLU in 1988. I was making good grades in college till Dwayne showed up. We'd stay up all night talking about Jesus. When the sun rose, Dwayne would head to his bus to sleep and I'd head to class. Not a good combination for academic success. Anyhow I ended up dropping out of school, buying the bus from Dwayne, and decided to move to North Arkansas.

Why North Arkansas?
Steve and Ellen had visited Jo and I in Alabama and told us about when they lived in North Arkansas. I had also floated the Buffalo National River on a Sierra Club camping trip when I was fourteen. We put in at Boxley. The river was up a little. This was also my first experience in a kayak. I now owned a couple of Kayaks and thought the kayaking would be better in North Arkansas than South Louisiana, so off we went; myself, JoLynn, Joanna, Cai, Micah and SadieDog.

We arrived in North Arkansas in the fall of 88' where we spent our first two weeks at the White Buffalo Resort. The resort closed down for the winter back then, but the manager told me about his dad's place in Calico Rock, Arkansas. I visited his dad, Jerry Newhouse, who rented me a spot for $50 dollars a month.

I pulled the driver's seat out of the bus and replaced it with a cheap trash burner wood stove. That was probably the most memorable winter I can recall in all my married life. I thought it was fun too. The wood stove would not hold enough wood to burn through the night, so prior to going to sleep I would drink a lot of juice. This caused my bladder to wake me up about 3 or 4 am every morning, and I'd throw a couple of more logs on the fire and take care of business before going back to sleep.

Jerry was a handyman besides a Resort owner and he accumulated a lot of scrap blandex chip board. Jerry told me once that the blandex burned good and hot and I should try it. NEVER AGAIN! The wood stove overheated and became cherry red, then it started huffing and puffing and tap dancing inside the bus. It was like it had a life of its own, and a little on the scary side. But, we survived without further incident and never burned any blandex again.

There was also a young kid, Eric Faulkner, that worked at the local gas station. Eric knew me as the ole bus bum that would come by the gas station to fill up an old station wagon and occasionally get a flat tire fixed.

After we left Calico Rock I eventually went to work for Air Evac Lifeteam. Air Evac was a pretty small company when I first went to work for them. Starting pay was less than 20K a year back then. When I got medically grounded in 2006 my annual salary was 52K a year. ...And I bet, you thought helicopter pilots made a lot.

One day shortly after hiring on with Air Evac, I had a flight to the small hospital at Calico Rock for a transfer to a larger hospital. Inside the hospital hallway there was a fair sized group of people. I eventually got around to surveying the faces and recognized Eric. He was now a brand new EMT. Eric had also recognized me and had quite the puzzled look on his face. After all he remembered me as the bum who lived in a bus.

When I recognized him I said, "Hi Eric. How are you doing?"

Eric said, "H, ho, how'd you get that job!"

I said, "Well, if you find the right Cracker Jack box you can be anything you want to be."

Here is my story of how I found that box: The Road to Flight School

I still see Eric from time to time and we usually have a good laugh over that story of the bus bum turning into a helicopter pilot. Here is a story with a picture of Eric Answering the call of duty. He is a good man and a good medic. We have not encountered each other enough to be close friends, but I always say hi when I do see him and he seems like one that would make a good friend.

Ciao...

BeauSpots ~ my appaloosa stud

God I loved that horse!

If I could have Beau, SadieDog, and a pet crow all together life would be better than good.

That would be my ideation of a perfect pet scenario.

When I owned Beau I had access to a small pasture by our house on North Cherry Street and I also worked on a 1250 acre soybean and cattle farm that I kept him at some times. I also owned a mare named Dixie at the same time I owned Beau. Work was about 20 miles from where I lived. If I had to move the horses between the two places I needed to get someone with a horse trailer to help me.

Beau was already broke and trained when I got him as a 2 year old. Studs are interesting and if I had the proper facilities and resources, a stud is what I'd want again as my personal horse. Studs can also be dangerous, though I always felt comfortable with Beau. Whenever he had not been rode in a week or so he always bucked a little when I first got on him. It didn't take long for him to settle down though.

Beau was shy of water and didn't like wading through it much. Whoever trained him must have used a switch on him a time or two because Beau didn't like them either. I never had to hit him with a switch, but if there was a puddle of water blocking the trail and Beau refused to cross, I'd ride to a tree and break a switch. All I had to do was show it to him and he would promptly prance through the water.

I watched Beau breed Dixie through a barbed wire fence one day. Being around a mare would always perk him up. I rode him to the SLU Colosseum to let him get an anthrax vaccination shot once when there was an anthrax scare going on. There were a lot of horse owners and horses there to get the anthrax shot. Ole Beau got to prancing and showing out in the presence of the mares. It was kinda fun. Several people asked me what I would charge for a stud fee. I wish I'd known more about all that in those days. I didn't have any business since then and still don't now.

I had a friend that was a bull rider and owned horses that would help me move my horses with his horse trailer sometimes. I had Dixie moved to where I worked and needed to move Beau there too because my home pasture had been ate down pretty low. My friend wasn't available with his trailer, so early one morning I put my saddle on Beau and headed to work 20 miles away. We left the house at 6am and arrived at work at 9am. For the last mile of that journey Beau had his head down as if to say, "Come on man! How much more are you going to ride me today?" We only had a little ways more to go. When Beau got within 500 yards of our final destination, he sniffed my mare. Beau snorted, threw his head up, and pranced the final 500 yards like he had never rode the 1st mile that morning.

Beau was a good cutting horse too. He could stop and turn on a dime. My boss would often send me out to check the herd in the morning and cutout any cows that appeared sick, and herd them to the roundup pen for treatment. The cows were all black angus and they all look pretty similar. I'd spot one that looked a little sick and start to cut him out of the herd and he'd vanish into the sea of black. Ole Beau still knew what cow I was after even when I lost site, and would soon have him separated out.

I think riding a good cutting horse and working cattle is my favorite thing to do on a horse. Here is a YouTube video of a champion appaloosa cutting horse:



That sure makes me miss you Beau!

I teased my cousin Paul Lebeau once. He thought I was going to run him over, but as long as the horse was skilled he was pretty safe. And, Beau was pretty skilled. It all worked out, hey cuz?

I was taking Beau for a pleasure ride one morning and decided to wade him out into the middle of a cow pond for a drink of water before leaving for the ride. I wasn't going to let him drink too much, but he had other ideas. With me and my saddle on his back, Beau laid down in the middle of the pond and drank till his heart was content before standing back up. "Beau! That my good saddle buddy!" Another time I was riding him bareback and he thought he needed to scratch his back, so he just laid down and started rolling over on his back side to scratch. I just spread my legs and waited till he was done. What a riot you were Beau!

I wish I knew how to train horses. I can ride, but I never learned how to train one. I do all right with training dogs though.

I wanted a horse so bad when I was young I'd have done almost anything to have one. Owning a horse is a big responsibility, and requires some resources to take care of them properly. Simply staking them out in your yard might do for a while, but is far from ideal. Sadly I ended up loosing Beau early. He had gotten a little lean during the winter and my boss had just started working on fattening him up. Beau had free access to Dixie and would try to breed even when she didn't want too. One day Dixie kicked him in the head and killed him dead. I think that experience crippled me some. Before Beau's untimely and too early death, I'd go for what I wanted even if I wasn't fully ready. Now I feel a little bit of restraint preventing me from just going for it in more things than just horse ownership, unless I know I have my ducks fully lined up and I'm truly ready. How often does that happen?

I won't ever get another horse unless I truly have proper facilities and resources to care for the animal more than adequately. Just because you can afford to buy one doesn't mean you are able or can afford to keep it properly. At my current age there is a good chance that won't ever happen again in this lifetime, but "Beau, it was my great privilege to have known and owned you buddy! I wish I could have done a better job. You certainly deserved to live a longer fuller life. I'm so sorry my friend."

Ciao...

Don't Tease the Panther

I've not given myself the luxury of recreational reading in a long, long time. But, I've been catching up lately. I just finished a book tonight and wrote a review on Amazon.com about it. Since that took up my time, I share my review as my Tall Tale post for today:

Here it is:

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I love reading negative reviews on Amazon. They usually save me money. Of course I pass them through the precious or worthless filter before I decide whether or not to spend my coins anyway. In this case it would have been my loss should the reviews have dissuaded me from the purchase.

I just finished reading "The Overton Window", and then went to Amazon to read the negative reviews after the fact in this case. A little backwards from my normal modus operandi. From the negatives I read I probably would have bought the book anyway and would have been glad I did after reading it.

I wish we could turn back the hands of time and have this book published under a pseudonym and then see what kind of reviews it would have gotten.

But hey, I found the negative reviews almost as entertaining as the book. Thanks guys!

Reading the negative reviews before writing my own review has probably changed what I would have wrote originally, but not the reason I gave Glenn's book only 4 stars, which I'll share at the bottom of my review.

All the negative reviewers probably think anyone who enjoyed the book and/or gave it a more positive review than their's have probably already entered the early stages of baptism into the cult of "Glenn Beck". Hey Glenn, you're not the charismatic "anti-christ" are you buddy?

After reading this, I think I'd buy the autographed copy in the wooden box if Glenn would inclose a personal signed note vouching that he didn't use ghost writers. Did you Glenn? As they claim. If you did, I'm disappointed. Still enjoyed it though, and if you choreographed the whole nine yards; good job regardless of the ghost writing.

I've always thought life wouldn't be too bad as long as I could still play a game of chess and enjoy a good book regardless of my physical condition. When it comes to enjoying a good book, this one would hit the mark for me. To all the pedantic nitpicking points in the negative reviews; come on guys, this is fiction! Plausible fiction. You try to sound so erudite yet display no concept of the suspension of disbelief in literary works. Give me a break!

Okay, "don't tease the panther" might have pushed it a little bit. I probably would have been tempted beyond what I was able to endure if a hot babe I was attracted to hopped in the rack beside me even though I think any male that disrespects the marriage bed is only an immature punk and not a mature man. (Unfortunately thanks to the influence of our culture, I've had my immature punk days. If I could do it over, I'd do it different.) I do appreciate the fact that Glenn didn't go over the top with too explicit sexual displays that goes beyond innuendoes that too many authors think is required to sell novels and movies. Thanks Glenn. I also appreciate the fact that Glenn showed good dialogue does not have to be salted with the use of expletives which is another indicator of immaturity for those who use them.

We live in precarious times. Anyone who can't recognize that has their head buried in the sand. I enjoyed how Glenn blended fact with fiction throughout this book, which he generously elaborated on in the afterword. That should be an eyeopener for all except those who prefer the bliss of ignorance.

A cord was struck with me as I read in the afterword, "When your mind suspends disbelief, it may also become more willing to consider a broader spectrum of possible outcomes to the events and agendas that are playing out around us every day." Yeah! As a pilot I like for my mind to go first where my body might have to follow. That involves looking at the full spectrum of possibilities from best to worse case. Should the worse case attempt to materialize, it makes dealing with it easier than being surprised. Then Glenn followed that with a paragraph about fighter pilots.

All I can say is the fighter pilot's prayer: "Lord I pray for the eyes of an eagle, the heart of a lion and the balls of a combat helicopter pilot." I don't have any combat helicopter time, but I personally know some of these men and am richer for the friendship. Likewise, regardless of the name of the author of "The Overton Window" I am richer for having taken the time to read and enjoy the book. Thank you Glenn!

So, "The most basic question is not what is best, but who shall decide what is best." Are they those who's immune systems are compromised by greed and blind ambition inflicted with the virus of corruption, allowed by a populace asleep at the helm? If so, we are in pretty deep kimchee. It won't be pretty once the fermenting is done.

I don't mind yielding to a superior debate when I believe it is the right thing to do, and I become convinced of its merit. Page 210 describing the four types of people in the world comes close to convincing one to yield. Glenn could have spun this story anyway he chose. He could have made all his detractors happy. Unfortunately it is obvious that our so called visionaries are tainted by corruption and greed. "Do as I say, not as I do!" Yea, no thank you!

"And so this government of the United States was brilliantly designed to keep that weakness of human nature in check, but it required the people to participate daily, to be vigilant, and they have not. It demanded that they behave as though their government was their servant, but they have not. In their silence the people of the United States have spoken. While they slept the servant has become their master." Oops.

Okay, why only four stars? "It was hard, she'd said, because it wasn't a street address that she'd been given, only a latitude and longitude." Sheesh! There was a time when a pilot also had to be skilled in navigating if he/she was to be useful. Now with GPS any dummy who can plug in the numbers is good to go. So how many times does Google Maps turn up an inaccurate location when a street address is entered? Yeah, thank you! If the latitude and longitude is accurate, the location is accurate anywhere in the world. Street addresses are not standard and useful world wide, while latitude and longitude are. You would think a protagonist of Molly's caliber could handle a simple set of latitude and longitude coordinates. That flaw would almost make you want to be a progressive if all the aspects of progressivism were as simple as that. Latitude and longitude are not that hard folks! Otherwise, excellent book Glenn! I enjoyed it from beginning to end. Thanks.